


Omelets

by TheLadyKing



Series: Erik's Harlem Home [5]
Category: Black Panther (2018), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Gen, Other, Prompt Fill, Tumblr Prompt, just some fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-03
Updated: 2018-03-12
Packaged: 2019-03-26 07:49:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,563
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13853274
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheLadyKing/pseuds/TheLadyKing
Summary: Prompt: "I’d love to see more of Erik with his daughters. Maybe the reader is sick or he gets her a nice little staycation and he takes cares of the three girls for a few days instead of taking them to her parents (he’s away so much and he feels like he’s losing too much time with them). Domestic!erik is like crack to me" from Anon





	1. Who Cracks the Eggs?

**Author's Note:**

> Let me tell you something, I almost died writing this and it's not even over. Look for a part 2 coming soonish.
> 
> Definitely, want to give yall more domestic stuff though. Also I listened to "I Want To Thank You" by Alicia Myers while writing.

Light bleeds into the bedroom as Erik yawns and sits up. He peeks over to the doorway where Cam stands, watching him quietly. He sits up and gestures her over. Trying to ignore the small panic at the empty space beside him, remembering the conversation earlier about Tameeka needing something or another.

“When is mommy coming back?” Cam asks, crawling into the bed beside Erik. Erik smiles and pulls her into a hug.

“Not for a while, you and your sister are stuck with me, kiddo,” Erik says, grinning as Cam giggles in his arms.

“Who’s going to cook breakfast then?” she asks, blinking up at him innocently. He rolls his eyes and gives a dramatic huff, hoisting her into his arms as he stands.

“I guess if you’re really hungry I’ll have to do it,” he grumbles. Cam laughs in his arms and lays her head on his shoulder as he carries her through the apartment, stopping to check in on a sleeping Kadija, and to the kitchen. He places her on the counter and begins to look through the fridge.

“What do you want for breakfast?” he asks, looking at the mostly empty fridge. He clenches his jaw and mentally counts how much money he has on him, he doesn’t want to pull out the emergency fund he keeps hiding in the apartment but he’s definitely not about to let his family go hungry.

“Daddy?” Cam asks, sliding off the counter and pulling him back into the present.

“Sorry, Cam. What did you say you wanted?” he asks. Cam looks into the fridge and points to the carton of eggs.

“An omelet please!” she says, smiling wide up at him. He places a soft kiss on the top of her head, pulling the eggs and a packet of shredded cheese out the fridge.

“You want onions in it, Cam?” he teases.

“No way!” she groans, folding her arms as she does. Erik laughs and clears the counter, eyeing the small stack of bills pushed off to the side. He’ll handle those afterward.

“Alright, Cam. You want to help baba crack these eggs?”

Camil nods and pulls over one of the folding chairs to the counter, kneeling on it to reach the countertop.

“You remember how I showed you?” Erik asks, handing an egg to her now.

“Mhm,” Cam says, taking the egg from him with a serious face. He smirks as he watches her carefully tap the egg on the edge of the counter and pull the eggshell apart above the bowl. He hands her the next one and watches as she repeats the process, her face still drawn tight as she slides the bowl to him.

“Thank you, Cam. Salt and pepper?” he asks, pulling out a fork to whisk the eggs together. Cam nods, still quiet.

Erik pulls out the salt shaker and hands it to her, pouring a small bit of pepper in himself. “Okay, hit it.”

Cam slowly shakes the salt shaker, watching intently as a small cluster of crystals pours out. She pulls her hand back suddenly, as if struck, before looking up at him, worries in her big brown eyes. “Was that enough?”

Erik nods and turns to heat the skillet. “Get the butter for me, Cam,” he says as he turns on the eye closest to him. Cam rushes to pull the half-used stick of butter from the fridge, handing it to him quickly. Erik nods and cuts a slab with the back of his now rinsed off fork.

“We’re doing pretty good, huh, Cam?” he asks, turning away from the stove to look at her.

“Focus daddy,” Cam admonishes, crossing her arms again as he turns, snorting out a brief laugh.

Erik watches the butter heat up and melt, bubbling around the edges of the pan. He turns the heat low and pours the eggs in just as Kadija pads into the kitchen.

“I want eggs too,” she says, sitting beside Cam.

“You two are real demanding huh?” he grumbles.

“Please, baba?” Kadi asks. He can feel her puppy dog eyes staring at the back of his head.

“Yeah, yeah. Crack your eggs for me, big head.”                

 

As the girls sit, eating their eggs and laughing at one another, Erik steps into the living room. He pulls out his phone and sighs at the number of missed calls and ignored texts messages before dialing the person responsible.

“Erik, what the hell? You said you were only going for a few days. Don’t we need to get back to planning?” the voice on the other end starts off.

Erik rolls his eyes. “I’m taking care of my family first then we can do all that, aight? I’m heading up later today to pick something up and then I’m coming back so be prepared.”

“Erik…,” she starts again.

“I’m not arguing with you, I said what I said. I’ll see you later,” he grunts, hanging up quickly and heading back into the kitchen. Kadija smiles up at him when he sits down beside her.

“So, what do y’all want to do until mama comes home?”


	2. Such Will Astound You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: "Can you please do a fic when Erik finds out she’s pregnant with their first kid?" via Anon. Title from "The Makings of You" by Curtis Mayfield.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote this to a 2004 playlist which was full of fire but also "Sunshine" by Lil Flip and "Southside" by Lloyd and Ashanti really helped me form the beginning of this and "The Makings of You" by Curtis Mayfield helped me pull the rest together.

Tameeka watches you and sighs, slipping into the spot beside you and bumping your shoulder. You turn to her and give her a weak smile, face crumbling a moment later.

“Hey, come on,” she mutters, pulling you into her arms. Around you, your clothes are strewn across the living room, a testament to the tug-of-war you’d just had with your mother.

For now, you’re thankful your father got there with Tameeka when he did. If he hadn’t come in and pulled her away who knows what kind of state things would be in right now. You force a deep breath and push your tears back. This isn’t the time.

“Can you help me get this sorted?” you mumble into Meeka’s shoulder.

Tameeka pulls you back and rolls her eyes. “Duh. Fuck you think I came here for? To chill?”

You laugh before sitting up and surveying the room. Half of your shit in on the floor but, thankfully, the other half is still in your suitcase. You never realized just how little you had until you started packing.

It’d looked like a bunch until you actually cataloged the shit that was _yours_ and not shit you’d just ended up with from your parents or whoever else. You’re not taking any of that shit with you, not after your argument with your mother. Let them keep it.

You stand and start gathering your clothes from the floor, bunching them in your arms as you go. Tameeka stands behind you and follows your lead, throwing items over her shoulder and onto the couch to be folded later.

The two of you work silently for a while before Tameeka sucks her teeth and lets out a huff. “Nah, this shit is mad boring. I gotta turn on the radio,” she huffs, piling your clothes into her arms as she makes her way to the radio at the bottom of the TV cabinet.

You watch her, folding clothes now, and smile when she turns it on and floods the apartment with music.

You laugh as she dances, throwing your clothes into the armchair and coming to grab your hand. “You’re going home with me tonight!” she sings, pulling you into her arms and spinning you around. You laugh and dance along with her, cackling when she drops your hand and starts to tipdrill.

“I wish you would stop!” you shout, pushing at her shoulder. She sticks out her tongue and continues as the song closes out and another, slower song comes on. You roll your eyes as Mario Winans starts up.

“I can’t stand this song,” you grumble, going back to folding clothes. Tameeka laughs and turns the radio down a bit and starts folding the clothes she’d dumped in the armchair.

 “But he doesn’t wanna know,” she teases, and you roll your eyes again, snorting.

“No thanks. If someone’s cheating on me I want to know. None of that in the dark shit,” you say, smiling as you pull out your favorite purple tube dress. The one you haven’t worn since last year when you met Erik.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Tameeka says, laughing as she does. You shrug and keep on folding, ignoring her.

 

 

“Bitch?! This shit is heavy as fuck,” Tameeka huffs, pulling your suitcase behind her. You shuffle the bags in your arms and huff yourself under their weight. For someone who doesn’t have shit, it sure feels like a lot.

“It rolls, Meeka,” you say, shifting the stuffed purse under your arm.

“I know that, but the shit keeps toppling over. Like damn, the fuck you even put in here?”

“Weren’t you talking all that shit about being strong or whatever? That’s why you took the suitcase!” You shout, laughing when Tameeka drops onto the couch, the suitcase falling on the floor beside her.

“I can’t go on,” she mutters into the cushion.

“You so damn dramatic,” you say, still laughing. The two of you sober up as a knock on the door sounds.

“Damn, you expecting someone?” Tameeka asks as you set your bags down on her back. She grumbles and shifts, letting them fall to the floor as you laugh and go to open the door.

You peek out the peephole and squeal in delight as you catch who’s on the other side. You pull the door open and throw yourself into his arms. Erik chuckles, lifting you up and swinging you around, making you squeal louder.

“You missed me?” he asks, smiling wide, his hair shaved down now.

“I always do,” you admit, smiling up at him as he stops spinning you around. He kisses you softly on the lips before pulling back and giving you a warm smile.

“Yall gon stand in the hallway all day or what?” Tameeka questions, hanging onto the back of the couch as she watches the two of you.

Erik rolls his eyes and gives her a small nod of acknowledgment. “Hey, Meeka.”

“Sup, nigga.”

You roll your eyes now and pull Erik inside, holding his hand in yours as the two of you make your way to the living room. He looks over your bags and raises a brow.

“Y’all going on a trip?”

Tameeka coughs and stands, pulling your suitcase up with her. “I’ll see you later, boo. Call me when you’re on the way,” she says, kissing you on the cheek and giving you a pointed look as she leaves.

The two of you watch her leave in silence and you feel your stomach drop into your toes when Erik turns to look at you completely. He gestures to your other bags and sits in the armchair, waiting on you.

“Hey,” you whisper, biting your lower lip.

“You gon tell me what all this is about?” Erik starts, leaning forward and looking at you expectantly.

You shift on your feet and plop onto the couch, kicking your bags out of the way as you do. “All of what?”

“The bags?” he gestures to your stuff. “Arguing with your mom?”

“How’d you know I argued with anyone?”

“Your dad called me,” he says, shrugging like it isn’t a big deal. And, considering the mess of this morning, it definitely is.

“He has your number?” You ask, confused. You can’t remember them every even being alone together long enough to exchange numbers. Your father isn’t the type to hang around when you bring Erik over, not like your mother who loves to hover and butt into your business. Another reason you’re a little excited to move in with Tameeka, even if it’s temporary.

“I might be a lot of shit but I ain’t no fuck nigga,” Erik says like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

You snort out a laugh and sit back, shaking your head. “You’re something else.”

“Yeah, I know. Now, what’s all this about? You gon tell me or do I need to call him back?” he asks, getting back to the point.

You sigh and frown. “I… don’t be mad.”

“Just say it,” he says, sitting up straighter.

You cough, your face heating as you look away. “You didn’t say you wouldn’t get mad.”

“You bout to get me heated,” he grumbles, rolling his eyes.

“N’Jadaka, just… please?”

“Oh, we like that right now? Okay, fine. I’m not gon get mad,” he huffs, smiling though at the use of his other name. You don’t say it often but you know he loves to hear it when you do.

You take a deep breath. “I’m pregnant.”

Erik blinks and lets out a long breath of his own, his gaze far off for a moment before they focus back on you.

“Say something? Please?” You plead, your stomach rolling with nerves.

“Pregnant?” he croaks, looking slightly confused. Like he never considered this possible. To be fair, neither did you until your doctor confirmed it. But honestly, what other conclusion did the two of you even think you’d get fucking without protection like that?

You stand, pacing back and forth as tears spring from your eyes. “I’ve been- I’ve been feeling crazy! Trying to figure out this whole thing out by myself and I wanted to wait, ‘til you got back, and now it’s almost the time where I can’t get an abortion. And I kept it all to myself until my mom found out and I’m just so tired of arguing with her about it and I- I _need_ you to help me figure this out,” you say, deflating when you stop to look at him.

He presses his face into his hands and mutters, “Hold on, hold on. Just let me, give me a second.”

You watch him as he gathers himself and then shoots up to his feet, smiling wide as he does.

“I’m gonna be a daddy?” he asks, his smile stretching even wider as he takes a step toward you.

You back up. “I mean… maybe,” you say, nervously.

“Maybe?” he furrows his brows. “You don’t want it?”

“No, I mean,” you sigh, feeling weary,” I don’t know what I want. Erik, we’ve only been together almost a year and we don’t even know shit about one another. Not the real shit.”

“What do you want to know?” he asks, his eyes bright as he comes close to you slowly, reaching out to you as he does.

You sigh, letting him pull you against him without protest. “Anything? Everything. My mom was being extra as hell but she’s right. We don’t _know_ each other.”

He holds you tight and presses a kiss on your forehead, you can feel his mouth stretch back into a smile immediately. “Fuck that. We know enough. And we love each other, right?”

You blink. “You love me?”

Erik pulls back and looks you directly in the eyes, looking like it should be obvious to you by now. “I’ve told no one the name my father gave me. Never anyone but you.”

“I… Erik, that’s not gonna be enough. Not to raise a baby,” you say, trying to be realistic and feeling much like your mother as you do. So maybe her trying to force you to stay was too much, but she has a point. A few, in fact.

“But it’s a start, right?” he asks, searching your face.

“I don’t know,” you say, honestly. The last thing you want is to end up like some of your friends, with a baby and a nigga who couldn't care less about them both. You know Erik’s not the type but isn’t that how everyone feels before they give birth and shit changes?

Not every man is your dad, but even he had his own issues to deal with at the start of your life. Hell, you don’t even remember seeing him consistently until you were five and you don’t want that sort of thing for any kid you bring into the world.

Erik cups his hands around your face, stroking a thumb across your lip to get your attention. You smile up at him, still feeling heavy with indecision. He presses a quick kiss to your lips before pressing his forehead against yours. “Listen, whatever you want is what I want. If you don’t know, okay. I’m with you no matter what, aight?”

You lick your lips and nod. “Aight.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay there's one more I'm gonna put in this and that'll probably be out later this week. Yall already know how I feel about them mistakes, lol. Give me comments and kudos cause I deserve them. Love yall.


	3. It's The Way That You Pray

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: "Erik/Reader - anything based on Blessed by Daniel Caesar because it put me in my feelings to know that Erik isn’t coming back home

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was my first time listening to this song which was fun. Also, this is me playing around with second person omniscient and it's actually pretty nice and I might mess with it a little more as this all progresses.
> 
> Originally I was going to combine this with a different, sadder prompt, but I'm still having that one to cap this all off tbh.

You sigh deep and tug Kadija back into place gently. She looks up at you and gives you a grin, her little chicklet teeth bright in the soft sunlight. You kiss her on the nose and then tilt her head back into place, shifting your shoulders as you try to focus back on your task. You blink once, twice, trying to push your suddenly cloudy vision and foggy mind to the side.

Your hands freeze for a moment as your senses come back, making you dizzy for a moment.

“We okay, mama?” Kadija asks, turning to look at you over her shoulder. You give her a smile and nod, not too sure yourself.

The two of you sit in silence for a moment as you pull the spray bottle of water and apple cider vinegar into your hand, shaking it well before spraying it along the part in her little afro. It’s not that she really needs it, not like you do, but it's "mommy and me wash day" so you have to do everything twice.

“Hold still, Kadi,” you mumble, humming along with the song on the radio while she plays with her Bratz doll.

You smile and get back to it. When Erik comes in, nearly twenty minutes later, that’s the sight that greets him.

“Damn, y'all cooking eggs in this bitch?” he asks, placing his bag on the armchair as he steps into the living room.

“Oh! Daddy cursed!” Kadija cries out, looking back at you seriously.

You frown, face going stern as you face him. “Hey, we don’t use that sort of language in here, mister.”

Erik laughs and bends, giving you a soft kiss on the lips before pulling Kadija into his arms, sniffing at her hair.

“Oh, what’s that baby girl?” he asks, kissing her on the cheek.

“It’s apple vinegar. It stops ya head from itching,” she explains, looking over at you for approval. You nod and give her a thumb up which makes her giggle.

“Oh yeah? Your head been itching a lot, Kadi?” he asks, carrying her over to where his bag is. Kadija nods, her wet hair bouncing around her shoulders.

“You gotta bring me back to mama, so we can finish.”

Erik nods and places her on the ground, digging into his bag for a second. Kadija watches him, intently, ready for whatever surprise he’s brought her. You watch the two of them, grinning when Erik pulls out a stuffed toy holding a candy bar and laugh when Kadija squeals happily, turning to you like she can’t believe it.

You blink, vision going blurry again. When your eyesight comes back Kadija is back in place, munching on her candy and talking to her new friend. You look up at Erik who watches you, concerned.

“You aight?” he asks, plopping down onto the couch beside you. You nod, pressing your shaking hands to the couch, keeping them out of sight.

“I’m good. Just tired. I need to sleep,” you say. Erik nods and kisses you once more.

“Let me finish, go lay down?”

You take a deep breath and stand, your body feeling impossibly heavy as you do. The living room spins around you as you make your way through it, keeping your mouth clenched tight as you feel your way to the bedroom.

As you lay down, you splay your hand on your extended lower belly, rubbing it for comfort. You ignore the plastic cap on your head and snuggle into the covers, feeling better as you slip off into slumber.

 

 

“Daddy,” Kadija whispers, stepping into the bedroom. Erik sits up, quickly, focusing on Kadija’s soft footfalls. He reaches to the side, feeling the other side of the bed for you only to be met with cold sheets.

“What’s wrong baby?” he asks, standing and grabbing her in his arms when he does.

Kadija presses her head to his shoulder, clutching at his shirt as she cries. “What’s wrong, Kadi?” he asks, licking his lips as he leaves the room. Looking for you.

“Mama’s sleeping on the floor,” Kadija mumbles. Erik stops, spine stiffening as he does.

“Where's mama?” he asks, his own heart hammering in his chest now.

“The kitchen.” He moves as quick as he can to the kitchen, clenching his jaw when he spots you, curled up on the linoleum. He places Kadija down, gently, by the doorway and rushes to your side, cradling your head in his arms as he lifts you up.

“Come on, baby. Wake up for me,” he whispers, checking your weak pulse and hefting you further into his arms. He stands, his own legs feeling wobbly as Kadija cries earnestly in the doorway now.

“Go put your shoes on,” he says to her, walking into the living room with you and placing you on the couch. He watches you and takes a deep breath before picking up the cordless phone and dialing 911, Kadija rushes back in, her shoes in her hands.

“I can’t tie my shoes,” she whispers, her eyes zeroing in on you. Erik grabs her and places her on his lap, keeping one hand on you to keep track of your pulse.

From there things move fast, he tells dispatch to send an ambulance and then your parents and Tameeka to let them know. He moves through the motions, dazed and unfocused when the paramedics pull you from the couch to the stretcher. From the apartment to the elevator, which barely fits three grown men and you, laid out as you are.

Kadija’s left, sobbing, in the apartment with Tameeka who was already close by.

 

 

Erik shakes in the waiting room, his palms itching for something to break as he waits for them to come and tell him something, _anything._

He licks his lips and sighs, clenching his hands as he sits and watches people rush by him, others talking gently to one another and a woman in the corner rocking and sobbing with no one to comfort her. He almost stands and reaches for her but his phone rings before he gets the chance.

“Hello?” he asks, voice sounding tight and gruff.

“Erik? Are you coming back Monday still? I was talking to some other people and…”

“Linda,” he says, cutting off her rapid-fire speech before she can really get going.

“Yeah? You all right? You sound like you’re tired. Did I wake you up?” Linda asks on the other end.

“I’m in the hospital.”

“Oh, oh my gosh. Are you alright? Should I drive down? Do you need anything?”

Erik pulls the phone from his ear and presses a palm to his forehead. This isn’t how he wanted this to go. Linda is… she’s different. She’s not you, but she’s not _unimportant_ and there’s no telling how she’ll react to the news. This isn’t her business, not anyone’s business really, but if something happens…

“I can’t talk right now. Linda, when this is all over, I’ll tell you, but I can’t talk,” he says, hanging up and leaning into his palms, nose pressed to his thumbs as his chest tightens.

He hasn’t cried since Kadija was born two years before, and before that even longer. But, sitting in the emergency waiting room, waiting for news about you, shakes him apart. Plucks at all the seams of his personhood, pulls out things buried under clay stuffed scars and rips into him.

“Fuck,” he whispers, sniffling and trying to gather himself back up. Gather everything that’s trying so desperately to spill out.

He wants to stand, to flip his chair and throw it against the wall, to break the walls and the hospital and take you in his arms. To fix this, whatever it is. To fix everything.

“Mr. Stevens?” a doctor calls from the doorway. Erik hops to his feet, at his side before he can get anything else out.

“Yes?”

“We have news. Could you come with me please?” the doctor asks, stone-faced. Erik nods, following the man in his bright blue scrubs silently.

“Your girlfriend…”

“Partner,” Erik interjects.

“Yes, well, your partner is doing better now, it’s good you got them in here when you did. Their primary care provider should have seen signs but sometimes things slip through. Your partner has pre-eclampsia, unfortunately, a more severe case,” he says, halting in the long hallway and gesturing to the closed door beside him.

“You’re not… what? What does any of that mean?” Erik questions, trying to think of his own limited knowledge of pregnancies.

“Pre-eclampsia is a disorder that only pregnant people get. It’s characterized by high blood pressure and often a significant amount of protein in the urine. Usually, it's caught earlier, after 20 weeks, and treated but your partner was almost 30 weeks and things were moving rapidly and we made the executive decision to deliver the baby.”

Erik blinks fast. “Delivery? Are they okay? The two of them?” he asks, his heart seizing in his chest.

The doctor nods and gestures again to the door.

“Both mother and child are fine and being monitored. Your partner is in there and the baby, as a preemie, is in the NICU and but she’s breathing on her own and looks as healthy as can be,” he says, offering Erik a weary half smile.

Erik nods and reaches for the door before turning back to face the doctor. “When can I see the baby? We have another child, when can I bring her? Her grandparents?”

“Considering the hours of the night and all the stress of delivery I would say to give this a few hours, let us come back in a bit and take better stock of how she’s progressing and then we’ll be able to tell you when other people can come see them. As for the baby, you can head to the NICU and sit with her for a while. But, again, it’s late and protocol says most visiting is shut down right now.”

Erik nods and takes a deep breath before entering your room and leaving the doctor in the hallway. The lights are down low but not off and he breathes out a breath he didn’t even know he was holding in at the sight of you, plugged to machines and looking drained of nearly all life.

He pulls a chair to your side, taking your warm hand in his and placing a kiss on your palm. He watches you, breathing in time with your heart monitor. “I’m sorry,” he whispers softly, kissing your palm again, leaving it pressed to his lips as he tries to stifle a sob.

His shoulders shake, and he lets out a ragged breath, pressing his face into the mattress, the starched sheets soaking up his tears as they come.

“I’m sorry,” he chokes, gritting his teeth as he tries to calm himself down. “I’m sorry for never being here, for not paying attention. I swear I’ll do better. I swear.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yall know my stance on mistakes. But also leave me some comments and kudos just cause I love validation.


End file.
